(haven'T Thought Of A Title Yet. It's A Metaphor For Books. Poem by Marcus Smith

A dismal house with a window bright
A place to go that's always light
Darkness may fall but the window's there
Waiting with a world that's fair

Escape from the stark reality
Become people you'll never be
No longer captive, put on a mask
Say you're playing if they ask

The house may be crumbling over time
But through the window you can climb
Hours, minutes, and seconds pending
You'll always have a happy ending